


Acceptance

by Aryas_Needle



Series: What do you know of my Heart? [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 08:40:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12009108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aryas_Needle/pseuds/Aryas_Needle
Summary: A five year old Jon wants to meet his new sister.





	Acceptance

_“Jon grinned, reached over and messed up her hair. Arya flushed. They had always been close.” – Arya I, AGoT_

* * *

Jon fought the urge to shift in his seat, as Maester Luwin talked of some King and his conquests from a hundred years ago. He didn’t want to show his distraction, though Robb and Theon in the seats beside him had taken on vacant expressions some time ago. Maester Luwin had always been distantly kind to Jon, but the young boy still held the fear that if he didn’t put absolute effort into his education at all times, then Lady Stark would hear of it and would insist that it wasn’t necessary for him to be taught at all. Perhaps it was a foolish notion to fear such a thing, but Jon knew how lucky he was to be allowed even to live in the same house as his father and siblings, never mind to get an education right alongside Robb, the trueborn heir to Winterfell.

Usually, Jon quite liked to listen to the old maester talk but today he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to what had now been plaguing him for over a week.

Lady Catelyn had this fortnight past given birth to a baby girl, her second after Sansa, and her third child. All of Winterfell had been in a flurry of celebration and excitement as the newest Stark had come into the world, healthy and thriving. Jon had been curious about his newest sibling, but had tried not to let thoughts of her bother him. He had not been allowed in to see Sansa when she was born; he didn't meet her until he had happened to be in the Godswood when his lord father had appeared, the tiny squalling baby nearly invisible in his large arms but for the Tully red ringlets that Jon could remember catching his eye. Lady Stark didn’t want him near her children and had stoutly refused his father from allowing his entry to her rooms when Robb had gone to visit her after Sansa’s birth. It had been the same when his father had taken Robb and Sansa to visit the new baby. He’d looked sad as he had told Jon to go and practise at his bow in the yard, and Jon had felt anger burn through him as Lord Stark had walked away.

_She’s my sister too!_

His anger had frittered away quickly, leaving behind a familiar, hollow sadness. Jon was only a boy of five, yet he felt like he was older, and he didn’t like it. He wished he could be more carefree like Robb, and even Theon. He was always too afraid that one wrong move or word would be the last he took here. He knew Lady Stark wanted him fostered away from Winterfell, and he dreaded that one day she would get her wish and he would be forced to leave. He had gone as suggested to the training yard to practise at his bow, holding back the angry words he wanted to scream at his father, and tried to keep his jealousy from showing on his face when Robb came back. He had managed to keep his tone even as he asked about their new sister, pulling back the string and aiming as Robb shrugged.

“It’s a baby. It didn’t do much, just laid there.” Robb then laughed, “It got sick on Sansa when she tried to hold it though!”

Jon had paused to allow a laugh at that. Barely two years old, and already Sansa was turning into a proper lady, doing her best, as a baby, to emulate her mother in everything from looks to behaviour.

“She doesn’t look like us though.” Robb was saying as Jon regained his stance, taking his shot, “The baby, I mean. She’s got dark hair and grey eyes.”

Jon’s arrow had veered way off-target as his surprise shook his arm. Robb had laughed, mirthfully teasing his half-brother while Theon sniggered behind him. But Jon had ignored them both.

_Dark hair and grey eyes._

The same thoughts had been circling his head ever since Robb had let slip that little bit of information. Robb didn’t look like Jon, and neither did Sansa, but they looked like each other. They looked like their mother, and Jon had the constant reminder that he was the odd one out. He’d expected the same for every child Lady Stark would give birth to.

But now there was a new Stark child who by the sound of it he shared something other than blood with.

Jon knew it was silly of him to put so much stock into a few careless words of Robb’s, but he hadn’t been able to stop thinking of the baby since. He wanted to see her for himself. He wanted to see the definite proof that he was their father’s child; if another of Ned Stark’s children had the same Northern colouring as Jon did,, then to him it would mean that he belonged here and wasn’t just being kept out of pity. He wouldn’t be the odd one out anymore.

He broke from his pondering as Maester Luwin dismissed the boys from their studies for the day, following Robb and Theon out of the room. However, as the other two were quick to run down the hall that would eventually lead them out into the training yard, they failed to notice as Jon diverted his course and made his way up the steps to the floor which Lady Stark’s rooms and the nursery were. His palms were damp, his stomach was knotted, and should anyone catch him and demand to know what he was doing, he feared he wouldn’t be able to speak as his throat dried up. He went slowly, trying to listen out for anyone who may be coming down the stairs. He was confident that Lady Stark wouldn’t be around; she usually liked to visit her sept at this time of the day. Jon had learned quickly to know where Lady Stark was likely to be at all times so that he could ensure to be anywhere else. She liked him better when he wasn’t in her presence. It was whoever had been left to watch over the baby who he feared would catch him. Like Maester Luwin, Old Nan was always kind to Jon, and may even allow him in if he asked sweetly but he was certain if it was one of the Lady Stark’s maids who caught him sneaking in to see the baby, they would tell Lord and Lady Stark. He thought his father would understand, but Lady Stark would be outraged, he was sure.

When he was outside the room, he took deep breaths to steady his nerves, telling himself to be braver.

_Like a true wolf._

He peeked his head around the open door cautiously. The room was on the eastern side of the castle and in the early afternoon was bathed in sunlight. The window latch had been opened to allow a soft breeze in. Old Nan sat in a rocking chair, turned away from him as she faced the window. In her lap she held a yarn, but instead of the incessant clicking he was used to hearing from her knitting, the old woman was silent, the only motion from her the rocking of the chair. Jon bit his lip as he ever so slightly edged around the door, his eyes catching on the crib across from him on the other side of the room.

He eyed Old Nan again, not moving as he wondered if she was perhaps dozing. She was blind, after all. Perhaps if he was quiet, he could get his look to satisfy his curiosity and then be back out of the door without her knowing at all.

However, he’d barely crept into the room when her gravelly frail voice called out,

“Who’s there?”

Jon froze.

He didn’t think she would rat him out, but he wasn’t certain. She did serve Lady Stark after all. But he’d already been caught. He could quickly leave, he supposed, and simply wait for the baby to eventually be brought around Winterfell to meet her.

But the part of him that still felt his anger cut into him like daggers that he hadn’t been permitted to see her like Robb and Sansa, and even Theon, that was the part ruling him right now.

“It’s me, Nan.”

Jon did his best to sound polite, but he wasn’t sure he managed it. He stepped fully into the room, walking over so that he was in front of the old woman.

“Jon.” She always knew their voices. Jon supposed she had bat-like hearing to make up for her loss of sight. “What are you doing in here, child?”

Jon bit his lip again, mentally throwing up prayers to the Old Gods to be kind to him today, “I haven’t met my new sister yet.”

Old Nan looked at him silently as he fidgeted. Jon thought it strange that though she was blind, she was still able to see more of him than he tried to display.

“Well go on then.”

He blinked as she nodded towards the crib behind him, the silence being broken by a strange squalling sound. He gave a breathless smile and turned towards the sound, quickly making his way to the crib in case Old Nan should change her mind.

He peered down into the crib, and felt joy seize his heart at the sight.

In fact, he didn’t immediately take note of the features Robb had mentioned. She was awake, a little drool escaping her mouth, blinking repeatedly, her little face scrunched up as she let out a yawn. She was snugly wrapped in blanket of velvet, one hand having wriggled its way free and was now grasping at the air determinedly. Then he noted the shock of dark hair on her head, thick and unruly, very certainly not Tully red. And as his head appeared over the crib, her eyes locked onto his.

Grey on grey.

_We’re the same._

Jon felt strange. It almost felt like something was twisting inside his chest, but not necessarily painful. Just, unfamiliar. She kept her eyes fixed on his, and Jon could not have looked away had he wanted to. He felt suddenly desperate to hold her, to confirm that she was real. As she looked up at him, something clicked into place in his mind.

Then she smiled.

Perhaps she knew that she already had him under her spell and was congratulating herself. He wondered if girls could tell that kind of thing as infants. Her chubby little fist was still raised above her head and Jon reached out his own hand, letting her grab onto his finger.

He smiled back at her. He couldn’t tell yet if she would have the same long face that he had inherited from their father; but the darkness of her hair and her eyes, and the way she smiled at him, had soothed all of his hurts from the past fortnight. He vowed that he would always do anything and everything to ensure that she would always look at him this way; like she already knew him, and loved him.

Perhaps she would grow and learn to ignore him, as Sansa did, or play with him while always having the memory of his status hovering in her mind, as he knew Robb did.

But no one could take this moment from him. This moment and memory he will treasure in his heart and when she is older he will remind her of this moment in time when their grey eyes smiled at each other, her smile and her strong grip showing him that he wasn't alone anymore; he was accepted by just looking at her.

He felt like he was just Jon.

And she was just Arya.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something for the Jonrya Reread celebration. I haven't written anything in the longest time so feedback is appreciated.
> 
> I'm hoping to create a series of oneshots for this couple - some will be directly connected, some will be separate in their timeline.
> 
> I do not own GOT, ASOIAF or any of its characters.


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